


Epilogue: I Hate You

by lordavon



Series: I'd Rather Hurt Than Live Without You [3]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst for days, It's Deadpool he comes back, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Masochism, Sadism, Sexual Content, Suicide Attempt, Unhealthy Relationships, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 10:43:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20357152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordavon/pseuds/lordavon
Summary: Peter and Wade deal with the fact that they aren't dead, and probably don't actually hate each other, but this relationship hasn't started healthily and isn't getting better soon.





	Epilogue: I Hate You

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I wrote an epilogue that is twice the size of the two original stories, combined.
> 
> ....I had to know how it ended.
> 
> Please pay attention to the tags. I'll note while this is consensual it's not light, fluffy, or coming from good headspace for the characters much of the time. If that makes it non-consensual for you, please don't read it.
> 
> I do recommend reading one of the first two works to have an idea how they got to this point.
> 
> The title for the series is from the song "Nothing Stays the Same" by Luke Sital-Singh

It was only a few weeks after they’d nearly killed themselves falling from the roof that Deadpool died on patrol.

Spiderman heard the shots and the meaty thunks as the bullets shredded into Deadpool, and as he turned, the lenses of his mask narrowed to slits. The muggers found themselves webbed to the walls with Spiderman looming into them. He systematically broke their ribs, crushed their thigh bones, and snapped their wrists as they hung there helpless. “I want you boys to remember,” he told them, picking up Deadpool’s katanas and holding them to their throats, his voice quiet, calm, “That you are extremely lucky I don’t kill. Can you remember that for me?”

One passed out. The other nodded frantically, wheezing in pain.

“Spidey?” Deadpool’s voice behind him, weak and full of hurt. Spiderman launched himself across the alley, throwing himself to the ground and holding onto Deadpool as a full-blown panic attack seized him. “Spidey you need to get off of me…” He listened to the other man’s sobbing babbles for a moment. “Fuck, you’ve gone useless. All right. I can do this.” Deadpool got himself up to sitting, cradling Spiderman across his chest while he recovered his katanas. Whistled as he saw the damage Spiderman had done to the two thieves. Picked the hero up and just let him hang on while he found a handy fire escape and got them both out of the scene before cops arrived. 

He got Spiderman arranged cross-ways in his lap and shook him until he stopped babbling. “Okay, real words now, what the fuck Spidey. You know I can’t die.”

“It hurts you.”

“Yeah, well, so do a lot of things. Hell, you hurt me.”

Spiderman nodded. “I hurt you,” he repeated, his voice so low and dangerous and possessive that Deadpool shivered. “No one else gets to fucking hurt you.”

Deadpool raised up the edges of their masks enough to kiss him. “Okay. Deal,” he agreed. Then grabbed Spiderman under the back of his mask by his hair, bending him backwards so his chest made an arch, running a gloved hand from his groin to his neck. Squeezed. “But I get to do the same. Right?” He shook Spiderman lightly. “Right?”

“Yes,” he hissed out, gasping when Deadpool just let go, leaving him awkwardly bent over one of Deadpool’s legs. He started to curl upwards but Deadpool rested an arm across his throat, holding him in the uncomfortable position. He tugged off a glove and slid a finger along Spiderman’s lips, waiting for the other man to start to suck. 

“I like you displayed like this,” he said, running his other hand down Spiderman’s chest, over his stomach, listening to Spiderman whimper. Shoved another finger in the man’s mouth. “Such a fucking shame your suit is one piece and you wear a cup. Or I’d make you cum before we finished patrol.” Spidey made some sort of strangled noise in his throat and Deadpool relented, letting the man up, taking his fingers back. “What was that, Spiderkins?”

Spiderman was panting, eye lenses tensed into a glare. “I fucking hate you.”

Deadpool grinned, and kissed him again, before pulling him in to hug tightly. After a moment’s hesitation, he felt Spiderman’s arm circle around him to hug him back.

**

They kept two separate apartments for no reason other than it gave them multiple places to crash after patrol. They just ended up in whichever one was closest. They talked it out and stashed half their clothing and spare suits between both locations. Their movies, their video games they doubled up so they couldn’t ever be at Deadpool’s place wishing they had a videogame at Peter’s.

They slept together, tangled up in each other, holding on for comfort. Either one of them would wake in the dark with nightmares; the other would shush them and sooth them until they could sleep again. Eventually Wade discovered if he held Peter by the throat at night it seemed to keep the worst of younger man’s nightmares at bay, and while neither understood why that was they didn’t argue it. The only thing that worked on Wade’s nightmares was for him to spoon into Peter and be held from behind, but then he couldn’t keep Peter’s dreams away properly. They fought over the problem for a week, throwing dishes at each other in the mornings, wrestling at night to try to get the upper hand, sex that lasted for hours trying to outpace healing factors into exhaustion. They finally decided on a schedule, their voices a little mad with hysteria as they set up a calendar trading off nightmare-laden dreams with each other.

**

The Daily Bugle published a photo of the two vigilantes. It was a rare photo not attributed to Peter Parker: Deadpool seated on the edge of a rooftop, Spiderman straddling his lap, the two of them feeding each other tacos. It made the front page of the print edition, and the website ran a cell phone video a reader sent in, showing the pair laughing and teasing each other as they ate, kissing in between bites of food. The Bugle was torn between overjoyed justification that this incident showed Spiderman’s true colors versus ranting and raving that Deadpool brought low one of New York’s icons. 

**

When they had to be apart – when Peter had to work, when Wade had an out of town contract and Peter couldn’t get time off – they texted incessantly. They called. Wade had even twice mailed postcards that arrived weeks after he’d gotten home himself.

They’d fall asleep talking on the phone with each other and wake up to dead batteries and empty beds. Their filters had little hearts and shiny rainbows and when co-workers caught it on Peter’s side they cooed over him being so lucky and when co-workers caught sight of it on Wade’s they kept quiet because Wade’s people knew he’d shoot them. They slept in each other’s shirts; Peter swimming in Wade’s, and Wade wearing Peter’s like a second skin.

“The only thing worse than being with you is not being with you,” Wade told him over facetime one trip. He was eating an ice cream cone like he wanted to be sucking Peter’s cock, and he was enjoying that he could see Peter hard as hell and not touching himself because he’d been told not to. Peter blushed scarlet; it was possibly the nicest thing Wade had ever said to him.

“Yeah, I hate you too,” he told the phone image, laughing when Wade snerked on a mouthful of ice cream.

** 

No one who interacted with them thought their relationship was healthy.

The Avengers tried to hold an intervention. They held a meeting, nice circular room, everyone in comfortable chairs while Captain America earnestly and sincerely laid out their concerns for the two vigilantes. Their concerns over Spiderman’s growing use of excessive force. Over Deadpool manhandling Spiderman. Over their making out in public. There were worries of abuse. That Deadpool was taking advantage of Spiderman. That –

_Crack_

The room paused as Spiderman broke Deadpool’s pinky, Deadpool hissing in a breath, but his grin visible through his mask. Spiderman reached for the next finger and snapped it. “You like it, don’t you babe?” Spiderman cooed, and Deadpool just nodded. Spiderman grinned under his mask, the eye lenses going wide and innocent as he broke each of Deadpool’s fingers in turn, then pulled the larger man onto the table to straddle him, before looking up at Captain America. “Unbelievable. I don’t kink-shame you, Cap.” He pulled out one of Deadpool’s knives and slammed it through the merc’s shoulder, pinning him to the table. Deadpool’s moan was more obscene than hurt. Spiderman ran his hand from the knife down Deadpool’s chest, leaving a trail of blood. “Don’t kink-shame us. Try to have an open mind.”

Captain America didn’t make it out of the room before he threw up.

Bruce went so green the Hulk came out and threw Spiderman, Deadpool, and the table out the window.

Spiderman wrapped himself around Deadpool, kicking the table loose, and then shot webs, grabbing hold of the side of the Avengers tower to stop their fall. He rearranged Deadpool, holding him tightly while he stuck to the side of the building. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you. I’ll never let you fall again. Shhhhh….” He told the mercenary until Deadpool could relax his death grip on the smaller man. “You okay? You believe me?”

“I hate you,” Deadpool whimpered into Spiderman’s shoulder. Spiderman gently kissed the top of his head. 

“I hate you too. Hold on, I’ll get us down.”

**

It was one of the really bad days, when Wade’s depression clawed through his mind, turning him inside out, screaming at him that he was worthless, that he ruined everything he touched. That he couldn’t be loved and he couldn’t be anything. No one would want him. That the only good thing he could do would be to kill himself and save everyone else the misery of putting up with him.

Peter sat at his feet, legs numb, eyes open, staring at Wade past the gun that was pressed to the center of his forehead. “If I let go, are you going to shoot yourself?” He’d asked it three times already, once an hour since he’d sat down, holding Wade’s hands in place when the man confessed how awful it was getting.

“Dammit, Peter, fuck you and your fucking questions,” Wade hissed at him. “Dammit!”

Peter didn’t let go of Wade’s wrist. “Okay then,” he said. “I’d like to fuck you, but only if you aren’t going to shoot yourself.”

Wade whined and shook his head. 

“I can wait.” Peter’s voice was soft, calm, accepting. The grip on Wade’s wrist was implacable. Peter could sit here until Wade was past the episode. They’d done this several times; the first time Peter had to remind him that the only way he could stand for Wade to kill himself was if he died too. Wade had screamed at him, screamed at himself, and it took nearly a day before Wade could agree to stay alive. “You’re worth waiting for.”

“Screw that, you hate me.”

“You hate me too.”

“Yeah.” Wade’s voice was a whisper. “Yeah, I do.”

It took three more hours before Wade collapsed, crying on Peter’s shoulder that he wasn’t going to kill himself, while Peter held him and made soothing noises, putting the gun to the side. 

It’d been eight months since Wade had last killed himself.

**

They had a fight that ranged over the course of two nights and most of Manhattan. It started in the financial district where they interrupted vandals spraypainting the bull statue. One of the them called Spiderman a sellout and a whore for Deadpool’s cock, and Deadpool shot out both of the man’s knees, then used his own spraypaint cans to crush the bones in his hands. Spiderman left the second vandal webbed to the side of the bull to get in Deadpool’s face.

“What the hell was that?”

Deadpool looked down at the narrowed lenses of the Spiderman mask before grabbing him by his face, shoving him backwards, and shooting him in the outer thigh. Spiderman clutched at his leg, moaning. “They don’t get to talk like that about you,” Deadpool said, voice raw and angry.

“So they can’t call me names but you can fucking shoot me? What the hell Deadpool!”

“Only I get to hurt you, remember?”

“I don’t care what the idiots say about us!” 

“Well, fuck me, but I care!” Deadpool roared. 

Spiderman limped over to him. “That is not the point!”

“It should be the fucking point!” They both looked up as they heard gunshots ring out. “Two blocks up.” Deadpool looked him over. “Can you swing?”

Spiderman gave an experimental bounce on his injured leg. The shot had been clean through and while his healing factor had nothing on Deadpool’s, he did have one. “Ow. I hate you. Yes, dammit, climb on.” As Deadpool settled on his back, Spiderman snarled, “This fight isn’t over.”

They shouted at each other over the next altercation, leaving bruised and battered heaps of muggers in an alley. The rapist they stopped at Battery Park was treated to the dulcet tones of Spiderman screeching bloody murder at Deadpool, leaving the mercenary to deal with the scumbag while he wrapped his own leg in bandages bought at a late-night CVS. They chased a mugger into a subway and then spent three stops calling each other worse names than the original vandals ever had; they emptied the adjoining subway cars as well as their own before they remembered to get off the train. By midtown Deadpool had shot Spiderman in the other leg, and just dragged the hissing and swearing hero by the back of his neck to the next altercation. It was a robbery which he stopped by throwing Spiderman into the thieves. 

The fight paused while they crashed in Deadpool’s apartment, commenced again over breakfast, and paused once more to let Peter go to his day job. By the evening, when they met up to patrol, they’d already spent the entire hour of Peter’s commute screaming at each other over the phone. In Washington Heights they busted up a robbery and argued over Deadpool’s kill count. In Harlem they stopped a gangbang while arguing over Spiderman’s lack of a kill count. On the Upper East Side they rescued people from a burning apartment building and paused in their listing of each other’s faults only long enough for Spiderman to give an autograph to a little girl and for Deadpool to slip a young gay couple condoms and lube.

Smoke inhalation finally killed their ability to yell at each other and ended the fight. “I hate you,” Spiderman told him as they sat on the side of the road, drinking bottled water a paramedic handed them. Deadpool leaned over and kissed his cheek through their masks. 

“I know, Spidey. I hate you too,” he told him, wrapping his arms around the younger man, letting him rest on his shoulder.

**

The first time Wade took Peter to Sister Margaret’s he spent an hour getting Peter dressed. Peter, predictably, was less than enthused by this sudden desire of Wade’s to control what he wore. He didn’t mind the tight black jeans, nor the short-sleeved black shirt that hugged every inch of his upper body. It was the red collar and the red cuffs he was having issues with.

“Hell no.”

“Stop arguing for once.”

“I’m not wearing bondage gear!”

Wade drew in a deep breath; paused, let it go. “Yes, you are.”

“You don’t own me!”

Wade grabbed Peter and pulled him flush against him, resting his hands on the other man’s ass. “The hell I don’t.” He leaned down and kissed Peter. “You own me, I own you.”

“Fucking hell,” Peter swore, as his traitorous heart skipped a beat. Wade laughed. 

“Now, will you stop arguing and trust me? Otherwise I’m going to shoot you and cuff you before you heal up.”

Peter sighed. “I can dodge bullets,” he said, resigned, holding out his hands. Wade smirked as he slid the cuffs onto each wrists, locking them in place, but leaving them unattached so Peter had full use of his arms. They were more like wide leather bracelets than anything else.

“See?” he said. “Not so bad. Turn around.” Peter did, and Wade fitted the collar around his neck, locking it in place as well. “Beautiful,” he murmured softly, but not so quietly Peter didn’t hear and blush. “Maybe I’ll leave these on you after all.”

“It’s leather. I can just tear right through it.”

Wade curled his fingers in Peter’s hair and shook him. “But you won’t.”

Another sigh. “But I won’t.”

Peter was regretting asking to see Sister Margaret’s bar. It was dirty and dingy and run-down and not exactly his normal scene. But it was where Wade spent a lot of time and got his gold cards and curiosity had gotten the better of him and now he was standing in the doorway in bondage gear and the whole place had looked up like he was edible. And his spider-sense had just shot through the roof. Some of these people he recognized and for a brief moment he wanted his mask.

Wade got three steps inside before he realized Peter had frozen in place, rolled his eyes, reached back, and grabbed him by the ring of the collar that had a Deadpool charm on it. Yanked him forward and sat him down on a barstool as he took one for himself. 

“Damn, Wilson, no wonder you’ve been scarce,” purred a male voice as someone draped themselves over Peter, sliding a hand over his chest. “How much to borrow him?”

“One million.”

“Wade,” Peter warned, and Wade chuckled, yanking his face close enough to whisper in his ear.

“Peter, fucking trust me.” And bit his ear.

The man whistled. “That’s what he charges you to sleep with him? Hey pretty boy, I’m much nicer to look at, give me a discount,” he asked, and Peter narrowed his eyes, turning to look properly at the interloper, a low growl in his throat. The man started to take a step back, but Peter had his hand in his own now, finding the pressure point and twisting, forcing him down to the floor. 

He didn’t notice how still the bar had gone, only a few people standing to get a better look, as Peter held a man twice his size down on his knees. “I sleep with Wade for free, asshole.” He twisted a little more, smiling as the man whined in pain. “And I won’t sleep with you for any price.” Slammed the arm over his knee, the crack of bone breaking loud in the too-quiet room. 

“Wilson, for fuck’s sake control your pet or next time you bring it leashed,” the man behind the bar complained, and Wade chuckled, grabbing Peter by the collar and pulling him to rest against his chest, and suddenly the bar patrons were no longer interested in Wade or Peter.

“Good pet,” Wade murmured in Peter’s ear, tapping the bar for drinks. “Next time I will bring you leashed, though. For their sakes.” He laughed as Peter glared up at him.

That night they discovered if Peter slept with a collar on and curled around Wade’s back, neither of them had nightmares. After two nightmare-free nights Wade ordered a custom-made one out of adamantium to lock around Peter’s throat, and this time Peter didn’t argue. Even when he clipped a leash on it.

**

“So young man, do you love my nephew?”

Peter froze, out of sight up the stairs, as he caught Aunt May’s question. It was their monthly dinner at May’s place and she’d finally cornered Wade without Peter. 

“Ma’am?” he heard Wade answer, and he tried hard to remember to breathe.

Dishes rattled in the sink. “Do you love my nephew?”

There was an awfully long pause, and Peter was sure the two people in the kitchen could hear his heart thudding in his chest. “Yes ma’am,” Wade finally answered. “More than life itself.”

May snorted. “I read the internet, you know. Rumor is you’re suicidal.”

Peter leaned on the wall, trying not to panic. The only way May would know that is if she knew Wade was Deadpool and Peter was Spiderman and fuck he didn’t want her reading about the two of them online. 

“Then more than I want to die.”

Peter whimpered before he schooled his expression into something he hoped looked normal and started down the stairs, making as much noise as possible.

“Peter, about what I told your Aunt…”

Peter turned and caught Wade’s hands. “Yes, I heard, no, don’t worry.” He smiled up at him. “You told her what she needed to hear.”

Wade breathed out in relief. “Good. Because you know,” he leaned down to kiss Peter, sweet and gentle, “I really fucking hate you – right?”

Peter grinned. Stood on his toes to kiss Wade back. “Just like I hate you.”


End file.
